


Down to The River

by SilverAndHoax



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 09:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverAndHoax/pseuds/SilverAndHoax
Summary: James musing after business for the day does not go according to plan, as it so rarely does. Possible preface to a large multi-chapter piece.





	Down to The River

**Author's Note:**

> First piece here and unbeta'd. But please, leave a comment or a kudos as I am planning on making this a multi-chapter piece.

“Mary? Mary, please where are you?” came a pathetic cry as James lifted his eyes, following down the dingy alleyway to an old bum who had seemingly woken from a nightmare.  
“Have you seen my Mary? Short little thing, but so pretty. Please have you seen her?” he whimpered to the deaf ears of the others sleeping or fucking in the alley.

“Shut the fuck up old man!” moaned a drunkard further down the alley stumbling from the whorehouse with a thin woman giggling on his arm before the sound of a bottle shattering echoed down into James grime covered ears. But it didn’t seem to calm the old man down as he continued begging anyone nearby him for the sight of whatever ghost from his past was haunting him. Eventually the drunkard and his woman seemed to finish another of another bottles before hurling another towards the other man, this time silencing the older man to nothing but quiet muffled cries in the night.

The whimpering and moaning continued before James groaned, accepting in defeat that this wouldn’t be a place for him to catch his breath, and rose from the worn steps he was crouched on. With a calloused hand he wiped at his eyes, smuggling specks of foreign blood across his cheeks blending in with his tanned and unwashed face.

Too tired to deal with the old man and the fucking couple, the broad-shouldered build of a man made his way around the alley, slowing past the whorehouse in case he could catch a glimpse of anything that peaked his interest. When no one seemed to grab his attention he continued on his way home, making sure to steal a bottle of rum from a couple would was too busy fucking to notice the shadowy man slinking past them.

\--

The front door creaked impossibly loudly as he pushed it open, not caring if he woke any of the other occupants in the house, before slamming it shut.

“Another late night on the town Sir?” came a annoyed sigh from behind him as he sat at the wooden table, kicking his boots off.  
“Get me some bandages” he simply replied, not bothering to turn to the older man that stood in the doorway, lit by the single candle in his withered hand, looking little more than a skeleton in the light.  
“Sir? Do you need a doc-” came the tired reply before being interrupted.  
“Are you fucking deaf? Get me the bandages and shut the fuck up.” he growled, knowing if anybody else caught the blood on his face there would be more questions then he cared to answer at the moment.  
“Right away Sir” grumbled the servant before stumbling away to carry his master's request.

Moments later, the greying stout man returned with bandages, offering them before having them snatched greedily from his hands.  
“That’s all. Leave me.” came his only thanks from his master who began to busy himself with removing his coat and shirt to get to his right arm, which to his servant’s displeasure was covered in blood.  
“Is that all your blood this time?” he grumbled, ignoring the younger man’s previous dismissal.  
“No.” was the only reply provided, before he gave up trying for conversation to help him, instead smacking the other man’s hand out of the way and taking over the task, the younger man simply groaning as he watched the work continue through dark green eyes.

Eyes so intense that they would normally have any other man cower from, fearing the devil himself was watching their every movement. But in his old age, the servant merely ignored in hopes that the man he raised would let him continue with his work without complaint.

“You know, if anyone told me when you were still a wildling of a lad, that I would spend more time cleaning blood from you and this house than puke and cutlery, I would have slipped something in your tea a long time ago. Maybe arsenic, but then again, maybe something not as kind for you.” he grumbled, ignoring the younger man’s slight smirk at the comment, the pain in his arm almost forgotten as was the servant’s initial care for his master’s anger.

“Ah, but then you would have been stuck in this house. Or maybe if you had been lucky, my dear sister and her husband would have taken you in. What fun you would have had cleaning after them every day till you begged for death.” James quipped back, tugging his lip between his teeth as the older man suddenly tugged sharply at the clothes, signalling his work was done.

“And what a lovely little life for you that would have been, hmm?” he continued, gently poking the older man in the chest, uncaring as a fingerprint of blood stained the withered man’s clothes in his wake.

“Goodnight old man. I’ll need a bath drawn in the morning.” James ended the conversation before leaving the room for his bed quarter, tugging on his short beard in thought about the night’s activities as he left his servant behind.

\--

As the next morning sun rose into the sky, James was awoken to the sound of banging around from the floor beneath him. More than likely, he assumed, it was the old man’s revenge for the late night help, in a thinly veiled disguise of making breakfast.

Rolling his eyes at his thoughts, he began to make his way to the bathroom, knowing the servant, although disgruntled at the work, would have remembered to have his bath drawn ready for him at his normal waking hour.

As he watched the steam lazily float from the tub, he removed what little remained of his clothing from the previous night and sunk into the water, letting out a moan as the water began to seep into the newer wounds that were scattered across his arms and torso.

With his head tilted back against the tub, he began to close his eyes, losing himself in the memories that followed him in the past 10 years and the voice from ghosts that still clung to him and clawed at his ears as they begged to be heard. Slowly he inched further into the tub until the water swallowed him, like a shallow grave as he stilled and let the dirt and blood wash from his skin.

After what seemed like hours he let his eyes drift open, looking above him for a moment of peace as the ghosts began to calm before another pair of shockingly blue eyes that he did not recognise peered back at him, driving him back into the room with an angry banging filling his head. As he reared his body from the water the banging suddenly grew louder, the eyes disappearing as he flinched, searching the room around him for the blue eyes and their holder as he found himself alone. 

As the banging did not cease he gaze around the room, only to notice the banging was now accompanied with the voice of his servant, who was now severely grating on his nerves as he rose out of the water completely. Without bothering for his clothes, James ripped the door open to meet the sudden shocked face of the old man.

“What?” he growled as the man hesitated with his words for a second longer than he meant to, alarmed as his master’s deadly gaze that pierced him.

“There's a man downstairs, I tried to stop him, but he has guards with him, doesn’t he. What have you done now?” The old man fretted as quietly as he could with his nerves so shaken.

Growling in reply, James slammed the door shut in the man’s face before looking for his clothes, in a half attempt to look presentable for whoever decided he needed to be disturbed. Deciding there was no need to worry for need of extra vanity in his own house, he left the room in pant, a shirt and his boots, leaving his coat and hat at the door before making his way downstairs.

The man that waited for him in his living area was not a man that James expected, or remembered for that sake.


End file.
